Flash Fiction, Prose

i took a ride on the subway – Iman Messado

Pull your thoughts together
as if they were stray strings
dangling off the hem of your silk camisole
spend a lot of money on
because you have two legs
and lungs and motor skills
but you’re sitting on a tattered bus seat anyway
paranoia is a clinical illness
not the fluttering urge to
shut your journal when strangers
pile in through closing subway doors
whimsy means platinum
and milk and stars and sky
it means trees and kindness and strawberries
it means wit and welcoming
and probably feminism
always get on the metro at the first stop
so that then you can watch
pockmarked faces and pockmarked thighs
and toothless faces and gaping mouths
you’ll have a seat.

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